


Crowley Fell In Love...

by boredom



Series: Crowley Fell In Love... [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Soft Aziraphale, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: A collection of short stories about all of the possible times Crowley realized he was in Love with Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Crowley Fell In Love... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649749
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	1. Crowley Fell In Love... in the burning bookshop

**Author's Note:**

> The next Good Omens Fic I’m working on is going through all of the possibilities for when Crowley and Aziraphale realized they were in love (separately or together). So I want to hear from you. When do you think one or both of these idiots realized they were in love? Why? 
> 
> This should be a really fun project and I will accept any head cannons (though I may not write they all or I might combine them).

Crowley’s elation of having killed Ligur and trapped Hastur did not last long. The happy, giddy feeling he had had in his flat was quickly being replaced by dread and anxiety. He had to get to the bookshop. He had to convince Aziraphale to leave. It was their only chance to survive the apocalypse together. 

Now, one might ask why Crowley was still trying to get Aziraphale to leave with him. He had offered twice and had been turned down (brutally, he might add) twice. Crowley would say it was because he and Aziraphale were kindred spirits. Two occult beings who had gone a bit too native for their head offices. He could see, through Aziraphale’s stutters and excuses, he was just as disillusioned with Heaven as he was. He would tell you that spending eternity alone on Alpha Centauri was not necessarily what he wanted and he would get bored. 

All of these were lies. The simple truth was that Crowley loved Aziraphale. He needed him like a fish needs water (or like a phish needed a gullible mark, as the case may be). He had never admitted it to himself. Demons weren’t allowed to love. Demons couldn’t love. He could not love, no matter how much he wanted to. 

He would never admit his feelings, unless a bit of divine intervention pushed him just a bit. 

Crowley felt his breath catch in his throat as he heard the scream of fire engines up ahead. 

“Just a coincidence,” he muttered to himself. “It’s a big city. Not the first time it’s burned. Just a coincidence.” 

Crowley was excellent at lying to himself (see the paragraph above). He convinced himself as he broke every traffic law (and the occasional law of physics) that Aziraphale was in his bookshop, sipping on cocoa and reading a book. His mind whispered thoughts of death and losing the lo-- of losing his friend in flames. He had pissed off Hell. They had to be coming for him. And what better way to come for him than to destroy the being he lo-- the being he tolerated most in the world. 

(He didn’t love Aziraphale. He couldn’t love Aziraphale. He was a demon and demons did not love.)

The siren sounds grew closer as Crowley turned down Aziraphale’s street. His breath was coming out in short bursts. He didn’t need to breath, but he seemed to have forgotten that in the rush to come up with some other plausible lie that wouldn’t change his world more than it already had been.

 _Azriaphale is fine. Aziraphale is fine. Aziraphale is fine._ It was like a prayer. The more he repeated it, the more likely it was to work. That’s how it worked, right? That’s how humans seemed to think it worked, at least. He pulled up to the bookshop.

He couldn’t breath. His eyes were now completely yellow and for the first time in his long life, Crowley felt well and truly helpless. In front of the bookshop were several fire engines all desperately trying to put out a raging fire. It took him a moment to truly comprehend what was going on. He saw that Aziraphale’s bookshop was on fire. He saw the firefighters struggling to put it out. And yet it took a few moments for his brain to catch up with his eyes. 

The bookshop was on fire. Aziraphale was in danger. 

With a calm swagger that surprised even himself, Crowley got out of the Bentley. 

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” Crowley said, not slowing down his gait. The faster he got into the bookshop, the faster he could pull Aziraphale from it and take them both to Alpha Centauri. They would be safe there (lies). They would be free from Heaven and Hell there (still more lies). He didn’t love Aziraphale, he was just his friend (if Crowley were hooked up to a lie detector test, it would break from how much he was lying).

He kept his demeanor calm. He had always come in the knick of time before, sauntering in with a funny one-liner while Aziraphale rolled his eyes playfully and then took him out to lunch. He had always come in time. 

There was no Aziraphale. He couldn’t sense him anywhere on Earth. He still called out, his voice not betraying his anxiety. He had killed a Duke of Hell. Hell knew he was not on Their side anymore. The firefighters were struggling to put out the fire. Aziraphale wasn’t on Earth. Aziraphale wouldn’t have left Earth willingly. 

He could no longer lie to himself. There was no other option. There was no other possibility.

Aziraphale was dead. Hell burned him alive to punish Crowley. It was all his fault. For the first time, he had come too late. 

The blast of water that sent him flying across the room broke his resolve. His best friend was gone. He was alone. 

“Bastards! All of you!” he screamed, not caring who heard or why. He didn’t know if he was screaming at Hell for killing Aziraphale, Heaven for putting him down here in the first place, the firefighters for failing to put out the fire, or God for allowing the only perfect, decent angel to be killed.

With tears streaming down his face, Crowley saw a book by his side and picked it up. In the ruins of the bookshop, surrounded by flames, he could no longer lie to himself. He hadn’t lost his best friend, he had lost the love of his life. 

He loved Aziraphale. He loved how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He loved his laugh. He loved how he could take hours to eat the smallest slice of cake, savoring every bit. He loved his wide range of knowledge. He loved how he never asked questions, he just did what he thought was right. Most importantly, he loved how deeply Aziraphale loved. 

Aziraphale had sheltered him from the rain despite knowing he was the reason for Original Sin. Aziraphale warned him when Sodom was going to be destroyed, despite knowing Crowley’s death would mean free reign on Earth and a win for his side. He had been the one who forced Crowley to stay behind and deal with Armageddon, even when all seemed lost. Yes, he was misguided and stupid at times, but he was genuine. And now he was gone. 

“I loved him.” Crowley ran his fingers over the ashened book of prophecy. “I loved him and now I can never tell him.”

Hugging the book to his chest, he staggered to his feet. “My best friend is gone and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t protect him and now he’s dead.”

He took a deep breath and stepped outside. He wasn’t going to take part in Armageddon. He wasn’t going to bring about the end of the world. He wasn’t strong enough to face all of Hell and make them pay for what they did. So, he decided it was time to stop running, to stop pretending. Now, he was going to go completely native. 

And what did humans do when they lost the love of their lives? They went to a pub and got shit-faced.


	2. Crowley Fell In Love... In The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet and sappy and not nearly as angsty as I planned. I'm not sure how angsty this series is going to be. The 1960s scene will probably be the most, or maybe the Bandstand scene, but we'll see. Probably should have planned this better so it would be out for Valentine's, but who really cares about that (except for everyone who knows chocolate will be 50% off February 15).

"Get up there and make some trouble." It was such a vague statement, one that held a lot of possibilities. Crawly could bite Adam or Eve and kill them. He could strangle one of the angels on guard duty. He could... he could... Ah, blast. Nothing suitably "evil" enough for a demon made him excited for his task. Killing a human or an angel was too easy, too in character. He wanted to do something else, something that would open the door for a whole world of hurt. 

That's why he was in the garden now, slithering along and taking stock of what ideas came to his mind. It was a nice garden, though he didn't have anything to compare it with. Lush trees, ripe fruit, perfect temperature, etc. How could he mess with perfection? How could he really stick it to the Almighty? 

"Oh, hello," a voice said. 

Crawly nearly jumped out of his skin. 

"I don't remember seeing you around." Without another word, the being gently picked him up and cradled him in his arms. 

Crawly was face to face with an angel. But not one of those wing-wankers. Oh no. This angel, was an ANGEL in the most human sense of the word. Beautiful and perfect. A round face with rosy cheeks and whispy white curls surrounding his head in place of a halo. Crawly's tongue may or may not have fallen from his mouth. 

"You're a reptile, right?" The angel turned and started walking towards the large wall that surrounded the garden. "You'll be much more comfortable up here. The stones are heated by the sun so you'll be nice and warm." The angel gently placed him on the stones and it did feel nice. 

Crawly was turning into a snake-puddle at this rate. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed. 

"There you are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." 

Crawly watched the angel leave. He felt a pang of... loneliness? Strange, demons weren't supposed to feel much of anything. And yet, here Crawly was feeling lonely and longing for an angel who would likely kill him on sight if he knew his true form. The flaming sword in his hand was proof enough of that.

oOoOoOo

Over the next few days, Crawly continued to try and figure out a plan that would ingratiate himself to Satan. But he was also (secretly) studying the strange little angle. The other angels didn't seem to like him much, and Crawly couldn't figure out why. He was kind, beautiful, hard working, and, most importantly, he didn't question the Almighty. 

In another life, in another time, Crawly may have even been interested in this angel as a romantic partner. The thought shocked him to his core and he banished it as soon as it entered his mind. The fact that he even could conceive of a universe where he and the angel got together was horrific. A demon in love? Especially with an angel? The idea alone was enough to get him executed. 

But… and he hated to admit it, it was a nice idea. Some days Aziraphale would place him on the warm stones and Crawly would nap in the sun, dreaming of picnics and and cuddles and all the sappy trappings of love. 

Was he in love? 

Who knows? Hard to say, really. He had never been In Love. Sure, as an angel he had loved, but this felt different. This felt more personal. This felt nice. The kindness of Aziraphale wrapped him in a warm blanket and protected him from all harm. He was safe. He was loved. He was in love. Possibly. There was still the small problem that demons weren’t supposed to feel love. Maybe it was love adjacent? Whatever that meant.

“Crawly. Crawly!” A fly was buzzing around his head. Beelzebub. Great, just what he needed as he was picturing kissing the angel on the cheek. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Are you going to get on with it or what? Our lord and mazzzter gave you a great reponzzzibility. You’ve been up here for nearly five days and haven’t done a zzzingle thing!” 

“That’sss not true,” Crawly said, resting his head back on the stones. 

Beelzebub whacked the side of his head. “Unlezzz you’re going to kill that blazzzted angel, I suggezzzt you get on with it. Or do you want Hastur to get the glory instead?” 

Crawly hissed. Hastur was a right bastard and he would rather swallow his own tail then let that idiot toad get any credit. 

“I’ve got a plan,” he said. “Jussst have to wait until Eve is alone.” He was lying through his teeth. He had an idea, but it wasn’t likely going to result in anything major. 

“Well hurry up! We haven’t got all day!” Beelzebub disappeared with a pop. 

Crawly grimaced. He hated to have to do this, but it was the only way. If he didn’t produce something and quick, he’d been tossed into the deepest pits for all eternity. He glanced at Aziraphale, standing like a statue a few feet from him. 

“Goodbye fantasssy.” He sighed and slithered away, waiting for Eve so he could strike. 

oOoOoOo

The whole ‘eat the apple’ business went a lot better than he expected. He expected Eve to eat the apple and then get scolded by the almighty and then continue to live out their days in peace and harmony in the blasted garden. 

Crawly would return back to Hell with a shrug and say, ‘Sorry, guys. Did my best. Maybe if I had more time? I’ve been working on getting one of the angels to trust me.’ 

Then Satan would say, “Crawly, you genius, that’s a great idea. Take all the time you need. Also, here’s a bouquet to give to the angel and a ring to ask him to marry you.’

And then Crawly could live out the rest of his life close to the angel and sunning himself on warm rocks. 

Instead, Adam and Eve got kicked out of the garden and Crawly received a commendation and a promotion that allowed him to take on a more human form, complete with raven black wings. He didn’t want it. Now that Aziraphale knew what he was, they would be enemies. The kindness the angel had for him would be smashed to bits. Crawly would be lucky if he even got one word in. Part of him wanted to explain himself, explain that he was really just doing a job and it was nothing personal or even that evil. Part of him wanted to rage against Heaven and Hell for being so stuck in their ways. Part of him just wanted to sleep. 

But he still had one task left. He wanted to talk to his angel one more time. 

In all honesty, he couldn’t possibly be feeling love for the creature. Love was not a demon emotion any more than hate was an angel emotion. Demons hated everything. Angels loved everything. He was probably curious and overworked and that combination tricked him into thinking he actually loved something that wanted him dead. So, despite knowing Aziraphale would kill him if he saw him, Crawly slithered up to him. He wanted to prove himself right. He wanted to prove that there was no such thing as love and angels were angels and demons were demons. He wanted to prove to himself that mixing could never and would never occur. 

Aziraphale didn’t strike him down. 

Aziraphale was nervous, but was it because of Crawly’s presence, or because of the apple business?

Aziraphale was saying something about ‘ineffability’. 

Aziraphale did not have his flaming sword. 

“I gave it away!” he cried, looking more perplexed and confused than any good little angel had any right to be. “It’s going to be cold and there are vicious animals out there and she’s expecting already!” 

Crawly felt something funny happening in his chest. He did all of this without asking for permission. He did this knowing the other angels wouldn’t approve. But he did it anyways because it was the right thing to do. Crawly was wrong. Angels did not love, they tolerated. This angel, however, this angel loved. Still, he was only a demon. Even if Aziraphale loved humans enough to go against orders, he couldn’t love him. 

The sky darkened. Water started coming down. 

Before Crawly even got a drop on him, a white wing came up and sheltered him. He looked over at the angel and nudged closer to protect himself from the rain. 

He wanted to ask Aziraphale if he understood what Crawly was; if he understood what he had done. 

Instead, he stood there, silent and accepting. There was no denying it now, he loved this angel. Maybe, as a demon, he shouldn’t be able to love, but he did. 

It’s quite a terrible thing to realize, being in love with your enemy. Crawly wasn’t sure how to deal with it. It wasn’t like there were any books on the subject. And he couldn’t bring it up with his bosses. That wouldn’t go well at all. So while he got used to his new legs and his new job, he thought about the angel. He thought about love. And he thought about ways they could be together, picnics and all.


	3. Crowley Fell In Love... In the Mundane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and with a healthy dose of tooth rotting fluff. Just how I like 'em.

The years after Armageddon had Crowley and Aziraphale falling into a routine. Each day, Crowley would wake up late, around ten or so, and saunter down to the Bentley. He'd go 90 mph through central London, cause a bit of mischief and then at around one he'd drive up to Aziraphale's bookshop. He and Aziraphale would go to a little cafe or restaurant that Aziraphale had heard good things about and Crowley would watch him savor every bite. He may have tossed in a few demonic miracles here and there to make sure the food was perfect, but Aziraphale didn't need to know that. 

After lunch, they'd either go look at books, go on a walk through a lovely little park, or other mundane things that people who were retired did. At around six they'd head to dinner, usually the Ritz and then afterward go to a show. Aziraphale loved orchestra and Shakespeare. Crowley loved ballet and literally anything other than sad Shakespeare. After they were done with the theater, they'd head back to the bookshop, drink for a few hours, talk, laugh, and generally enjoy each other's company in a way they couldn't before Armageddon had been attempted. 

It was cosy. 

It was nice. 

It was a routine. 

Crowley wasn't complaining. Finally, after years of dancing around friendship, Aziraphale was finally open with him. He wasn't so afraid of being found out and punished. He was free to act every bit of the hedonistic bastard Crowley knew and loved. 

And it was here, listening to soft music playing on the record player, a record Aziraphale had probably had for decades, drinking wine out of the same glasses Azirphale had had for centuries, talking about ducks and dolphins and books that Aziraphale had read hundreds, if not thousands of times, that Crowley realized it. 

_Oh,_ he thought to himself. _I love him. I am in love with him. I love him._  
It's a bit of a misconception that demons can't love. They were angels once, after all. It's just, the Fall had left a lot of them very scarred and very bitter. They acted out in ways not unsurprising when you accounted for the trauma and loss of camaraderie with their fellow angels. That didn't mean that demons were all good...erm...people. They did their share of nasty things and deplorable things. It just meant that if a demon were to work through those issues, they could find themselves feeling love for another being. Not lust. Love.

And that's what Crowley was feeling right now, doing something he and Aziraphale had done for years. Nothing particular was different about the day. Nothing had happened. Nothing had changed. It was just the realization that Crowley loved Aziraphale. 

How long had this gone on? What should he do about it? Should he tell him? What if Aziraphale didn't feel the same way? 

"Are you alright, my dear?" Aziraphale's voice broke through his thoughts. 

Crowley opened his mouth and tried to think of a response. How does one go about confessing soft, sappy, sweet love to their best friend? "I'm fine, angel." Is what he finally settled on.

Aziraphale smiled at him and nodded. "If you're sure. Anyways, I was talking to a realtor about some of our options--"

"Wait, what?" Crowley asked. How deep in thought was he? How much of the conversation had he missed? Since when did Aziraphale have a realtor?

Aziraphale chuckled. "I figured you weren't paying attention. It's quite alright, dear. Anyways, I was thinking the two of us could move in together. Someplace out in the country but still close enough to London to go to the theater and the Ritz. Of course, you'd have a lovely garden to tend to. And I’d have my library. Shannon, the realtor, says it’s important for us to keep our own spaces so we can keep some of the mystery. I’m not really sure how we’ll fit in all those modern doodads you love so much, but we’ll make it work. Perhaps we should hire an interior decorator to find a way to blend our styles?" 

Crowley was overwhelmed. Everything was so casual he almost wanted to ask who this person was and what had they done with his angel. But Aziraphale was different now. He was more relaxed and open. It appeared Crowley wasn’t the only one to work through his employment related issues.

"I love you," he blurted out before he could stop himself. But, really, Aziraphale was talking about buying a house together. He should probably know. It wasn’t like Crowley would be able to hide it very well anyways.

Aziraphale blinked. Here comes the rejection. Nice one, Crowley. 

Aziraphale smiled. "Thank you, my dear. I love you too. Now, I was thinking South Downs might be a nice place to live, what about you?" 

But Crowley didn't hear the last part. Crowley's brain was still trying to catch up with the fact that Aziraphale loved him back. Sometimes, Crowley was a bit slow.

"You're not surprised?" He was desperate to know. 

"Of course, my dear. I've known for ages." 

"Why didn't you say anything!" Crowley leapt up, spilling wine all over the sofa. 

Aziraphale tutted and snapped his fingers, miracling away the spill. "Before it was too dangerous, with Heaven and Hell sticking their nose in everything."

"Yes, but after Armageddon?" 

"Well you never said it. I figured you were someone who didn't enjoy those sappy declarations. I don't blame you. Everyone's love language is different."

Crowley wasn't listening. Instead, he was stumbling over the couches and out of the shop. 

"Where are you going?" Aziraphale called, miracling himself sober. 

"I need to get you flowers!" Crowley shouted, the Bentley unlocked and the boot disappearing. 

"It's one in the morning!"

"And chocolates!" 

"Crowley!" 

"I love you, angel! Figure out a place for us to live. I'm buying the biggest teddy bear holding a heart I can find!" 

He sped away, leaving a bemused Aziraphale on the steps of his shop. "I love you too, my dear. South Downs it is."

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the suggestions from tumblr from @aziraphale and @the-moon-loves-the-sea


End file.
